But if Mistress Mackenzie was easy to teach the graces of society, Flora required no teaching at all, and showed herself much more apt at French graces than the French language. Waving her white hand disdainfully at De Bourmont, she said, “I do not need to be taught how to approach anybody!”
At that she made her bow so prettily and gracefully that De Bourmont cried, “Bravo!” and the old counsellor shouted, “Well done, my girl!”
There was no lesson in the language that day, but when De Bourmont was leaving, Counsellor Mackenzie went with him to the door.
“M. de Bourmont,” said he, very positively, “I am under the impression that you know more about royalties than you are willing to admit. In short, I charge you with being a gentleman.”
For answer, De Bourmont turned his pockets, which were quite empty, inside out.
“That does not argue that you are not a gentleman,” coolly remarked old Mackenzie. “On the contrary, your willingness to show me your poverty confirms me in my belief. But if you were the man I should take you for, you would be fighting for your country in these days.”
De Bourmont grew quite pale, and stood for a moment with the shaft rankling in his heart. Then, without another word, he went rapidly down the street and disappeared from view.
The afternoon was fast melting into night and there was a gray pall of mist and rain over the old town. De Bourmont walked on, not feeling the rain or the wind. In his ears rang Mackenzie’s words. He should be fighting for his country! He could almost see the Austrians and the Prussians advancing upon French armies and trampling Frenchmen under their feet—and he, he here in idleness! He ground his teeth, and walked and walked for hours, he knew not whither. He did not appear at dinner that night, and Lady Betty Stair was sad and distrait. About ten o’clock, when the solemn game of ombre was going on in the grand salon, De Bourmont came in. He looked haggard, and sat down silently in a window seat. Presently, Lady Betty Stair came along and sat down by him.
“Where have you been, that you look so sad?” she asked.
“At Saulsbury Crag.”